Christopher Hitchens and I were friends for 40 years, plus another five when we were enemies. He took ideas so seriously that if he disagreed with you on a matter that he deemed important, he’d literally throw you in a ditch. It was 1972, the height of our mutual virility. He and I went to a pub to celebrate his most recent intellectual victory over the establishment press. I intimated that sometimes women could be funny on purpose. Even back then, the thought enraged him. Hitchens threw a drink in my face, pressed a lit cigarette into my neck, and hit me over the head with a barstool. The next thing I knew, it was two days later and I was lying hogtied and naked beside the M5. Hitch had already severely damaged my reputation in a vicious essay in the Guardian. But that’s how he operated, and that’s why we loved him.The rest is here.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
"I knew Christopher Hitchens better than you"
Wonderful satire by Neal Pollack, in Salon:
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1 comment:
Wot, still no comments?
It is indeed wonderful satire - although Chris (or 'Podge', as I called him) would have spat in my face for saying so.
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